Recurrant
by RazzlePazzleDooDot
Summary: "It's the same dream every time and I can't get it out of my head." - Hiccup in "Uncle Gobber" by muggleborn.dragon.ryder. Written with permission and as a tribute to .Ryder's fic, this is my idea of what happened in the recurrent nightmare Hiccup mentions in that story. BEWARE THE TENTATIVE ANGST.


**Ok hi! Urm... my first attempt at angst. I don't think it went too well. I know it seems like I'm trying too hard. Please feel free to NOT review unless by some miracle you liked it.**

** AANYWAYS. Since this is technically made to be 'inserted' in a fic by .Ryder (EVERYONE GO READ _UNCLE GOBBER_ HECK READ ALL HER STORIES THEY'RE BEAUTIFUL), allow me to set the stage:**

**Pre-movie. Hiccup is very sick and Gobber is taking care of him while Stoick is on a voyage. (In the context of .Ryder's fic, it goes right after chapter 6)**

**..arrright, here goes nuttin' *shudders nervously at the crud I am about to feed you all***

* * *

**Recurrent**

"You wanna play Truth-or-Dare again tomorrow?"

Hiccup fixed Gobber with an unamused deadpan. "Pass," he said dryly. Just the though of embarrassing himself in front of Astrid any more than he already had made him feel nauseous. Well, it's true that that could have just been his illness, but still; He wasn't particularly feeling up to adventure right now, as no matter how much he would deny it to Gobber, he really did feel horrible. His head ached and his throat felt like it'd been scrubbed with sand paper. Even his limbs and neck felt weak and sore as if he'd been doing heavy lifting the day before. He covered his mouth as a bout of coughing clawed its way out his abused throat, the sound deep and harsh and rattling in his chest. The fit seemed to drain him of energy as it passed and he slumped back against the frame of the fireplace where he and Gobber sat on that rainy evening.

"Hmm," Gobber mused, looking his apprentice over with a concerned eye. "Maybe we oughta get you into bed."

"I'm fine," Hiccup insisted, attempting to sit himself up more naturally. "Really."

With a skeptical eyebrow raised, the blacksmith merely shrugged and asked, "What do you wanna do then? Practice rudery? Bad spelling?"

Hiccup sighed. "Gobber, you tried to teach me those subjects when I was younger, and it didn't work then; what makes you think it'll work now?"

"Ah, c'mon," Gobber insisted, scooting closer with enthusiasm. "You didn't do _that_ poorly..."

"I had the worst grades in my class!"

"..and I know you've got potential. So, to start: I'm a Hysteric scum who's just burgled your sheep. How would you insult me?"

"Um..." Hiccup thought about it. "How about, "Go back to where you came from or else, you... you sheep-stealing scum!"

"Hmm." Gobber rubbed his stubbly chin and tried to look encouraging. "That was really... intimidating?" He offered halfheartedly.

"Ha!" Hiccup scoffed. "I'm about as intimidating as a toothless dragon."

The blacksmith snickered. "That'd be a sight. Anyway, how 'bout another scenario? We could-"

"No!" Hiccup groaned. "This is making me feel even _worse_."

"C'mon, lad, you gotta learn the basics if you ever wanna be a real Viking."

Hiccup's eyes went wide before he dropped his head so that Gobber would not see his hurt expression. It took a moment for the man to realize what he'd said wrong and he instantly tried to backtrack.

"Not that you're not already a Viking, kid, I just meant-"

"I know," the boy interrupted. He opened his mouth to say more but was choked by a sudden fit of coughing. The harsh sound grated at his already-sore windpipe and left him feeling strangely overheated. Gobber put his large hand on the kid's back and rubbed in soothing circles to try and ease the tense muscles there. Hiccup looked miserably up through his bangs at his mentor.

"You see," he said quietly after a few minutes, starting Gobber out of his concerned reverie on the state of the sick boy that he loved like a son. He looked up, confused, but Hiccup's head was turned away from him, his expression unreadable as he finished his statement.

"Vikings don't get sick," he explained slowly. "They aren't tiny or useless." Hiccup swallowed, and Gobber heard the unspoken conclusion: _I'm not one of you guys_."_  
_

Gobber's eyes crinkled in concern. "Ah lad, you're bein' a bit harsh on yerself there."

The kid's mouth turned down a bit at the corners and his lips were pressed together tightly like he was trying not to let any emotion show. He still wasn't looking at Gobber. "Am I?" He whispered to himself.

And with that Hiccup turned himself fully towards the fireplace they were seated in front of and curled up there, pulling his raggedy blanket over himself and ending the possibility of further conversation.

Gobber watched the prone form of his apprentice with sadness in his eyes. He wished he could make Hiccup feel better, in more ways than the physical.

...

_Hiccup blinked his eyes open heavily. It was more difficult than it should have been, almost like trying to open them through thick honey. Once open and adjusted to the harsh sunlight he found himself in, the image of the dragon training arena swam into view. It was a place he'd only ever seen from a distance, as twelve years of his son's misadventures made Stoick keen on keeping him away from dangerous contraptions (and even contained, any several-thousand-pound fire-breathing reptile with anger issues definitely qualified as a 'dangerous contraption')._

_Nonetheless, here he was. And before he even had a chance to wonder what he was doing there, his ears were suddenly assaulted by an uproar that rose all round him with startling volume. The source of the din was the crowd of Vikings filing into the stands around the arena, which were filled to max capacity with Hairy Hooligans. They all looked ready for some form of entertainment, crowing and jeering as they were. Hiccup looked around, puzzled, but found the arena was empty save for himself, standing alone in the dead center of the ring like a small, injured animal surrounded by a flock of hungry buzzards._

_Scanning the crowd, Hiccup picked out his cousin Snotlout in one of the front row seats, his leering face right up against the mesh dome. When he saw Hiccup looking back at him he grinned and called rather maliciously, "Hey, Useless! Any last words before I become the new heir to the tribe?" At Hiccup's look of confusion the bigger boy merely cackled and made some comment to the other teens sitting near him. They seemed to appreciate his joke because they all joined in his derisive laughter, pointing and mocking the lone boy in the ring._

_Through the chaos Hiccup heard a familiar heavily accented voice and turned his head to see his father, Stoick the Vast, calming everyone down for the start of whatever was going to happen. Hiccup tried to get his dad's attention to ask him what was going on, but when he opened his mouth, he found he had no voice. He was starting to panic._

_"Release the dragon!"_

_The crowd roared in excitement as their chief gave the order. Hiccup trembled, beginning to understand._

_But to his surprise, the creature that suddenly stood before him was not one of immense size and strength, but a small, acid-green Terrible Terror. The boy stumbled back in fear as the little dragon scrabbled toward him with slit-pupiled eyes trained on what it knew to be prey._

_Around him his tribe laughed and laughed, evidently finding the scene hilarious. Through their noises of amusement Hiccup heard calls of,_

_"Pathetic runt!"_

_"Nobody'll miss that old nuisance!"_

_"Never was a real Viking anyway..."_

_So that's what the Terror was about. Because they knew he was no match for even this, the tiniest of dragons. Because the lack of a dragon that could swallow him in one gulp would make things more interesting. Because..._

_"No one misses a hiccup." The words were Stoick's, barely whispered but somehow audible to the terrified boy in the ring._

_In his backpedalling Hiccup tripped over an invisible obstacle, drawing more raucous laughter from his audience. He looked around frantically, still shouting noiseless pleas. The little monster drew ever closer to his helpless form, foam dripping from its little fangs as it prepared to tear the him to shreds bit by bit._

_In hopeless realization, Hiccup tore his gaze from the creature to his father at the head of the arena. The last thing he saw was Stoick's emotionless face before, all at once, the scene shifted unexpectedly._

_He was in the bottom of an earthy pit. The ground was moist and hard, and looking up Hiccup, saw a long tunnel separated him from the sky._

_"Hell__o? Anyone?" He called, relieved to find he had his voice back. Above him he heard the conversation of people he couldn't see, and tuning in to their words, he caught that the two speakers were Stoick and Spitelout._

_"...Disappointment of a son," his father was saying, sounding relieved. "...Good riddance."_

_"I don't know why we put up with him in the first place," Hiccup's uncle replied casually. "If 'e were mine, we'd 'ave thrown 'im out with the garbage long ago."_

_Hiccup's face contorted in hurt. Surely his own family didn't think this way about him? Why would they..._

_"I guess we hoped he'd be a late bloomer," Stoick answered with a laugh. "But really, not much you can do with a talking fishbone. Pretty much useless."_

_Both men laughed, Hiccup yelled desperately from his dark prison, "Dad! Dad, I'm down here! I'm not dead, please help me out! I'll do better!"_

_But even though his audible voice was back, he was ignored just the same._

_And as the tears ran down his face and he begged for help, soil came cascading down into his hole and he found he was drowning in the earth, smothered by dirt, choking on his sobs and his throat getting tight and painful and everything throbbing and his head pounding and..._

"Ah!" Hiccup started awake, lurching upright, his thin chest heaving painfully. His heart fluttered feebly in his ribcage like the wings of a frantic little bird. Looking around himself he found he was safely back in his own home, with a cheerful little fire popping in the grate of the fireplace nearby and the still, snoring figure of Gobber asleep in his father's armchair a few feet away. Hiccup took in the familiar environment and sucked in a deep, somewhat shaky breath to calm himself, his eyes slipping closed in relief.

It was just a dream.

A stupid dream.

_Where did that come from?_ He wondered to himself, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and looking out the window at the starry night sky, so serene and peaceful after the throes of the nightmare. In his head he ran through the day before, at last coming to the conversation he'd had with Gobber.

_Oh._

He dropped his gaze to the blanket pooled in his lap and remained still and silent for a while. The moon had traveled a good distance across the sky and the fire had burned down to a wistful little pile of sparks by the time he was finally able to lay back down and fall asleep again.

The dream had jolted him hardest that first time it came.

If only he knew then how many times his fevered mind would be plagued by similar nightmares before his sickness had run its course.

...

**So yeah... there it is. ****I did try to throw some cute book references and some ironic humor in to measure out the FAIL.**** If you did find it as awful as I did... DON'T HATE MEEEE *sobs pitifully* **

**so yup. ****And um, have a good day and all that.****  
**

**RazPaz ;)**


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